


Idol Worship

by clusband



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Zebruh is horny and Marvus is.... you know, and listened to low shoulder's cover of in the flesh like 80 times, okay so for context i wrote this on a manic upswing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clusband/pseuds/clusband
Summary: You're a highblood who likes clowns- well, one clown specifically. Is there anything wrong with that? You certainly don't think so.Being an ally is so tiring. Maybe it's time for a quick break.





	Idol Worship

 

 

> _Darlin' darlin' darlin' I can't wait to see you_
> 
> _Your picture ain't enough_
> 
> _I can't wait to touch you, in the flesh_

 

It starts slowly, how he takes over your mind like this. A glimpse of his smiling face out of the corner of your eye, a quick, unconscious grab of the flesh of his titty mouse pad (and you can almost imagine his mouth moving, lips rounding over the “o” of that prerecorded “honk,” a shiver runs through you).

You round off your scathing comment with one last paragraph. **♠️** _Nice job generalizing a group of people- maybe try doing your research sweetie. ♠️ I know a rustie like yourself can’t see the oppression that we highbloods face, so maybe stay in your place? I mean, I’m a highblood and I like clowns- ♦️ does that make me worth less? ♦️ I certainly don’t think so. Clowns don’t need anyone else negging them- society is the biggest neg of all._ Yeah, you really showed them- you’re proud of that last line. In the glow of your victory, you hit the post button, then you block them. After all, does any other word need to be spoken on this topic?

Your eyes roam over to your favorite poster again. Marvus, in his full glory, dressed to the nines in a retro workout outfit complete with pink sparkly leg warmers. He’s posed on his back, hands holding his hips aloft as one leg sticks straight up in the air while he keeps the other bent. Good God, but he’s flexible. You take a moment to admire the masterful composition of this photo- how his one leg frames the whole left side of the poster, and his other leg almost tastefully both draws your attention to and distracts from his bulge and his bountiful chest. His eyes are sparkling, his teeth sharp and white and on full display in one of his signature wide smiles. You were very careful with the placement of this poster, placing your limited edition Marvus funko pop just so, making sure that you couldn’t immediately see his well defined bulge in his tight, yellow spandex. Clowns truly have to suffer so much, you wouldn’t want to accidentally fetishise them on top of everything else they already have to face. You feel your own bulge stir regardless.

Well, since you’re all done for the day…

You settle back, deeper into your chair. Hundreds of familiar fantasies swirl in your head- the one where he pulls you on stage with him, and you wow the crowd with your revolutionary ideas and slam prowess before he takes you back stage and fucks you senseless; the one where he sees you rallying for lowblood rights and helps advocate with you, crying a single tear, touched by your devotion before you kiss him deeper than he's ever been kissed before; even the one where you save him from the mockery of upset lowbloods- he, the damsel in distress and you his knight in shining armor. That's your favorite imagined dom/sub scenario.

But only one fantasy will do when you get in a mood like this. You want him to want you the way you want him. You crave his touch, his devotion. And so you imagine him getting jealous. Possessive. With such a fresh and revolutionary mind, he can only imagine how popular and sought out you are. But you’re unaffected by the adoration of the common mind, waiting only for him- you desire nothing but the best. You’d wait a million sweeps, if only you had the time.

You finally unzip your jeans, letting your bulge free. With one hand, you jerk your bulge in rough tugs as you grab the mousepad by the boobs again, wondering if the real thing is just as soft.

_One hand on your chest, another grabbing your jaw. It might have been pitch, if you didn’t know him as well. But you do know him, and you see how soft he’s being elsewhere. His knee occasionally providing pressure to your nook. His mouth drawing near as if to kiss you. You slip a little bit on some faygo that’s been spilled and long forgotten on the ground as you make your way back- Marvus is too woke for a maidstaff. Or maybe he’s not woke enough- another time, you might educate him._

_But not now, as your back hits the wall. He towers over you, a full head taller, an idol among men. He glows with it, the power and passion and musk that exudes from his being more intoxicating than sex itself._

_He leans in, his hair a dark curtain, hiding you away from the rest of the world. And one word singes itself strongly and painfully in your mind, spinning like the fiery halo of an angel: his. His. His._

_But he smiles at you. And though it’s a predatory smile, it carries genuine warmth. How good it feels to have you beneath him, your nook soaking through your jeans and onto his thigh. You wonder if he’s going to be wearing his now blue-stained pants to one of his shows with a small thrill._

Oh, that’s what you’re forgetting. With haste, you pull your pants down. As ever, your nook has made your underpants wet and uncomfortable. They stick a little to your thigh (yuck, wet and cold) as you pull them down, but you’re too horny to really give a shit about anything other than the man staring down at you. Your eyes still haven’t left his in the poster. You shiver as you run your fingers over your nook in time with the pumping of your bulge, teasing for now.

_His, you think again._

_With one smooth motion, he unclips your bowtie. A hot wash of shame rushes through your body- you’re certain his is a proper bowtie. Maybe he’ll grace you with the chance to learn how he ties it one day. He finally, finally brings his mouth to your neck as he unbuttons your shirt, scraping his perfect, even teeth along your skin. His two canines get caught in the dip of your collar bone before he starts back from the top._

_“hehe mayb i shld mark my sign here ;o)” he says against your pulse before biting roughly down. Your blue blood flows down his chin in rivulets, dripping on the floor and onto your pristine white socks. He sucks lightly, drawing the blood into his mouth._

_When he smiles at you, he has your blood in his teeth, staining his mouth suggestively blue._

You’ve closed your eyes in the middle of your fantasy, but suddenly you realize that you’re missing something. Quickly, you pull up grubtube, hoping to find one of his more ambient songs for background noise. Too late you realize that this is just going to distract you- you watch one of his live performances yet again, captivated by the movement of his hips. His swinging hair and bouncing pecs. Oh, and his love for performance. You would never forget that. Kindred souls, that’s what you and Marvus are. You see your own love for music and taste for performance reflected in him. Marvus is really quite the showman, rallying the crowd and joking and laughing with them. Oh, how you wish that were you in the crowd, making him laugh like that. But the world is not so kind.

Instead, you pull up CiravaStream4Sweeps, and let the sounds of their moisturewave livestream lull you back to your fantasy. Never let it be said that Zebruh Codakk doesn’t do his part supporting independent lowblood artists. Now where were you…

_He’s pressing his body against yours now- hip to hip and legs entwined- grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back roughly to expose your neck as he bites you again. You’re really grinding against him now, your desire amplified by his squirming bulge. He lets out a rough little gasp as you press into him, angling just so to have the root of your bulge pressing on his pleasure nub. It’s an awkward position, and he seems to think so too, pushing you on your shoulders until you’re down onto your knees._

_You could almost cry with how devoted to him you feel in this moment. With him looking down on you, the light source behind his head, he looks messianic, and you think for a moment that maybe the clowns got it right. If you had seen this in any other context, well, you would definitely convert on the spot. But knowing it’s Marvus reminds you that clowns can’t help being dumb enough to look to the divine in light of the mysteries of the world. That’s okay, you can tolerate his religion. Maybe you can have a tasteful debate someday. You do hope that he can stop himself from getting emotional and look at things rationally._

_Your thoughts are stopped with he grabs you by the hair again, grinding your face right into his clothed nook. It’s a sublime torture- the chances that you do get to breathe are filled with his scent, half laundry detergent and half salty and musky like raw steak that stayed in the fridge for just a little too long. His pheromones fill your lungs, and if you weren’t crazy about him before, you would be now. Every little bit of you is longing to please him. To touch him. To worship him. Your nerves are on fire, buzzing with wanting._

_And thank God this is a fantasy, because suddenly, and very conveniently, there’s a couch behind him now. You barely have to move before he seats himself, sliding his pants all the way off. His pants are so tight that you have to help get them unstuck from around his heels. He grabs you around both horns and shoves you back into his nook, wrapping his legs possessively around your neck and shoulders. And- are you so bold?- you grab him by the hips. His skin is so soft and pliant, cool to the touch like the skin of a seal._

_You really go to town on his nook just…. Licking and sucking on it. You’re pretty sure that’s how that works. Either way, he’s completely into it, placing most of his weight on his hands and letting you hold him up, your hands holding his hips as you place your elbows on the couch, his legs putting some weight on your shoulders. He’s moaning loudly and without abandon into the empty room. He’s noisy, all breathy sighs and loud gasps. You find his pleasure nub instantly, because you’re just that good._

_He finally comes, drenching your face in purple._

_“yeah bby u like dat? got a clown painting ur face w his pussy juice?” God, Marvus is so good at dirty talk. You’re extremely flattered that he would compare you to a clown in this moment- coming from his kind, that’s high praise. There's no way that's blasphemy._

After a few minutes of teasing, you finally let your fingers find your pleasure nub. You stroke your bulge a little harder, adding pressure. You want to come when he next does, trying to keep in time with your fantasy, so you hurry it the fuck up.

_Instantly, he’s on you, pulling you roughly onto the couch so that you can recline comfortably. He seats himself on you, lowering his nook over your still-clothed bulge. And where his skin is so, so cold his nook is hot, searing into your bulge despite the multiple layers that separate you. He unzips your jeans, letting your bulge uncoil fully. And he seats himself fully down on your bulge in one quick motion. He's so wet, his inner thighs are stained purple with it._

_“Yeah…” you say, then, “Does that feel good?” He leans back, his hands resting his weight on your knees (and though he’s fairly slender, he’s very heavy, dense with muscle the way all highbloods are). You’re strong enough to hold him there, strong in the way that your blue blood makes you. And he shudders. And he sighs, fucking himself on you._

_“any 1 else fuxk u dis gud?” he asks, smirking at you, gathering the hair that’s fallen in front of his face to brush it all behind his shoulder. He pulses his nook around you, clenching his thighs slightly and moaning. He makes unyielding eye contact with you._

_“Come for me,” you plead him._

_“bet,” he replies, and he comes instantly just as you do, pulling out of him and getting your genetic material all over his beautiful chest, his soft stomach. He moans even louder as he continues to come, laughing a bit because he must be so happy to finally meet someone who can make him come with just a word. It’s totally possible, too. You’ve seen it too many times in porn for it to be fake._

You’re broken out of your fantasy for a moment, the dopamine rush from your orgasm crashing through your body. Are you brave enough to even imagine this next part? Of course you are.

 _“i love you,” he says, his face growing serious. You pull him into you by the waist, (“Yours, forever and always” you whisper against the skin of his mouth), kissing him as deeply as you can. You love him, you love him,_ you wish he were here with you.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to cleaning up your mess. You have luxury grub wipes stashed in one of your desk drawers just for this purpose. Luckily it seems that you managed to avoid coming all over your chair and husktop this time.

In the drawer, right next to your wipes, is a little Marvus plushie. These things are super rare- he threw them out to the crowd during his special wriggling day concert. The thought that he works so hard, even on his wriggling day, makes you shed a tear of pride. After wiping your hands thoroughly you grab the plushie with all the tenderness you can manage. This thing was in his hand once. You give it a little sniff, hoping to catch even the slightest whiff of him.

But there’s nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh warm and soft in the flesh  
> Ooh close and hot in the flesh  
> ___
> 
> Let me know if the italics are hard to read! I can reformat this pretty easily for readability's sake :)


End file.
